The Impulsive Invader

                           The  Impulsive  Invader.

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          The wind in his homestate,

          Is whistling and wailing at his new found peak,

          Like the honking  ambulances shrieking their way;

         And the cries of a mass funeral making its sway.

         The branches of trees beaten up to bleed,

         Dance to the cranky choreographic lead

         Of an exorcist’s evil and enigmatic  speed .

         The falling leaves fall to the ground

         That receives them well as if for a cause

         Like a stage,taking its showers of applause.

         But the fallen leaves in fright, fail to stay,

         Chased by the ruckus of the ruining fray.

         Heaping  helplessly at other’s  door steps,

         Like victims in exile of an ethnic strife,

         The withered stuff is at its nightmares’ blow,

         A midst the thrust of an imperialistic throw.

                                               P.Chandrasekaran.